5 August 2002
Y’know, if I didn’t know better I’d say you weren’t reading these. That’s what I’m gonna tell myself, anyway. If you are reading them and still ignoring me I’m gonna be real pissed off.
I’m gonna keep writing them, regardless. Knowing you, you’ve probably got them all stacking up in a shoebox somewhere. You’re scared to read them because you think I’m over here, droning on and on about how sorry I am I cheated and you’re scared if you read the apologies you’ll forgive me and do something stupid like COME VISIT ME IN FUCKING PRISON!!! God, you’re so fucking stubborn. I wish I didn’t love that.
Honestly, Al, I don’t know if I’m gonna make it in here. It’s only been a few weeks and I’ve already pissed off a bunch of people I don’t think I should’ve pissed off. This one dude, Terry? I accidentally sat in his seat at dinner. Somehow I got out of that one pretty much unscathed. Only cuz it started a brawl, though. I took a couple punches, threw a couple punches, and then the whole thing exploded and I got lost in the mix. Kinda ironic, huh? He’s still pissed at me, though. He’s got guys watching me everywhere I go.
This place sucks. I’m bored as hell. I finished all the Hemingway, and I’m starting in on the SciFi section of the library. Orson Scott Card is my favorite so far but I bet you’ve already read everything by him, you fucking nerd. There’s not a whole lot of fiction to choose from. It’s mostly just old textbooks. I guess maybe I’ll get to do all that learnin’ I didn’t do in high school, huh?
I know you’re not reading, but I’m gonna keep writing. I miss you so bad it hurts.
You’re the stars, baby.